


Any Way I Can Have You

by brokenparable



Series: As Easy As This [2]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Danish Actor RPF, Hannibal (TV) RPF, Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Madancy, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, RPF, Tagged as Will/Hannibal for discussion of their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenparable/pseuds/brokenparable
Summary: Mads and Hugh continue to experiment with the boundary between their real-life attraction and the connection between their characters. Obviously, the only appropriate way to do this is to engage in enthusiastic oral sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, it seems I was completely wrong when I thought that writing something about these two would "get it out of my system" and allow me to return to my usual projects. I still feel a little uncomfortable about posting RPF (even anonymously), but apparently that's not enough to stop me from wanting to write it! Once again, this is intended to be harmless fantasy, and I reiterate that the real lives of these actors are absolutely none of my business.

Once upon a time, Hugh would have thought that sitting in a hotel bar with Mads sounded like an appealingly relaxed way to spend an evening before an early flight. These days, however, it feels much more like a cruel endurance test. He has been trapped in a nauseating cycle of alternating lust and self-doubt for the past few weeks, equally excited and disconcerted by the question of what might happen between them. Too warm and slightly manic from the double whisky he surreptitiously gulped down before they met, he's now offering his best impersonation of someone who hasn't ever had Mads expertly jerking him off against a door.

Mads himself is looking irritatingly relaxed, legs stretched out in front of him and a half-finished pint on the table as he finishes his explanation of what he'll be doing in his latest role. Although they've been talking for close to an hour, Hugh's affected casualness isn't getting any more authentic and he's constantly trying to deflect a barrage of explicit sense memories from their last encounter. He would normally be delighted to take in a funny story about one of Mads's recent sporting misadventures, but his hearing starts to dull as his gaze focuses in on the gentle movements of long fingers absentmindedly running along the edge of the table.

"...and you are not listening to me," Mads announces, waving a hand in front of his face.

"I'm _definitely_ listening to you," Hugh lies, cheeks heating up he rebukes the one-track thinking of his newly adolescent subconscious.

"I worry that you seem very distracted," Mads says as he touches his lips to the rim of his glass, and Hugh catches a quick flash of a smirk. It's barely perceptible, but it's sufficient evidence for Hugh to conclude that he's being played with. Mads is feigning ignorance as a form of foreplay, and Hugh's confidence returns in a flood of relief.

"Why would I be?" he challenges with a raised eyebrow, and that's when Mads reaches across to stroke his knuckles, touching him for the first time this evening. It's a casual, easily defensible gesture, yet somehow it's the very lightness and brevity of the touch that makes it profoundly erotic.

"Enough," Mads says, voice low as he leans forward, a proper smile appearing now. "Take me upstairs with you, unless you would prefer I drag you into the toilet."

Hugh closes his eyes for a split second to regain his composure. Although he knows it's a flippant threat, part of him _does_ want that – he can't help imagining the pleasurable torture of having to bite into his own fist to stay quiet, Mads kneeling on the hard tiled floor with the sole mission of making him come as quickly and messily as possible. But even more so, he wants to let this unfold more slowly, savoring the preciousness of privacy, and so he fishes his keycard from the depths of his pocket and stands up.

They are silent in the elevator and Hugh stares straight ahead, the palpable tension winding him up so tight that he counts the passing floors in an effort to ground himself. He can feel Mads standing next to him, the smell of him familiar and irresistible, and he fears he'll lose what’s left of his dwindling common sense and self-control if they even look at each other again. He recalls the ludicrous movie cliché of slamming the emergency stop button to push your love interest up against the wall, and it should be funny but all it does is make him itch to grab Mads by the jacket lapels.

This time, there's no hesitancy or uncertainty as the hotel room door finally closes behind them – there's only the tug of Mads clutching at the front of Hugh's shirt and hauling him forward to kiss the life out of him. He immediately opens his mouth to let an insistent tongue meet his own, hands falling to Mads's hips, and there's a shameless, open desperation to it that makes Hugh feel weak. He grazes Mads's bottom lip with his teeth, a rough scrape that gives way to a gentle, teasing lick, and he receives a throaty rumble of pleasure in response.

The kiss deepens and slows as the initial thirst for contact is sated, and Hugh wonders how they so easily create something that's both deliciously debauching and yet almost over-earnest in its heartfelt sincerity. "Why is it like this with us?" he breathlessly blurts out, his thoughts muddled and joyful. Mads only laughs, shrugging out of his jacket and carelessly depositing it on the floor.

"I think maybe it has always been like this," he says, leaning forward to brush their noses together. It's not quite an answer, but Hugh can barely make that judgement before large hands are pulling him closer, his thinking stuttering to a stop as he finds himself held tight against a body that feels outrageously good. He helplessly pushes forward into the solid heat of Mads's thickening erection as it brushes his own.

"Fuck, I need you," Hugh gasps without really meaning to be so honest, the words muffled as he leans in to press his face into Mads's shoulder. "I think about that night all the time."

"What do you think about most?" Mads asks, fingers gently raising Hugh's chin so they're eye to eye. "Do you still imagine me biting you?"

"Yes," Hugh swallows, captivated by the searching intensity of their shared stare. He offers his confession in a whispered rush. "I... well, you bit my lip, and now sometimes I do that to make myself come harder."

Mads exhales with a twitch of his upper lip, visibly aroused by the thought. "I would love to see that," he sighs, reaching out to brush Hugh's hair across his forehead. He leans in for a series of short, soft kisses, their lapping tongues barely touching and no more. "Are you thinking about Hannibal when you touch yourself, or are you thinking about me?" he asks, as though it's an afterthought.

"Are you jealous?" Hugh mocks, his laugh ending in another gasp as Mads grips him through his pants.

"Oh no," Mads says dismissively. "Because I know no matter what you say, you are really just thinking about me and making it more digestible for yourself."

"I don't think you'd hold down my wrists while I call you _doctor_."

"I could," Mads offers, mischief in his eyes.

"...okay," Hugh says faintly, fairly certain all the blood is leaving his head.

"Maybe we will do that sometime, when you're naked and I am fully dressed. Would you like that?" Mads asks, one hand dragging him closer by the belt and the other palming him far too slowly. Hugh finds he can't answer, momentarily paralyzed by the suggestion.

"Hannibal has the patience to keep someone on the edge for hours, I think," Mads continues, mouth on Hugh's neck and hard cock nudging his hip. Hugh yearns for rough thrusts that leave him trembling, the weight of a solid and powerful body against his back.

" _God_ , I want you to fuck me," he groans, turned on beyond reason, all barriers dropping as the words trip off his tongue.

"I would love to fuck you," Mads whispers into his ear, voice thick with longing. "To be so deep inside you... hear how you would sound. I can't imagine wanting anything more."

Hugh stifles a whimper and ruts against the pressure of Mads's hand, breathless and aching as a kiss is sucked into the hollow above his collarbone. "You could just bend me over something."

"Such as a wooden desk, perhaps?"

"Would you make me beg for it?" Hugh asks, tilting his neck back to provide better access, dizzy from the heady blend of fiction and reality. "Hannibal would."

Mads pauses for a moment. "I will take you any way I can have you," he says, something like deference in his words, and the mood shifts. 

Hugh remembers a similar tone from months ago, the intimate actuality more potent than the fantasy had ever been. "Did you mean it? When you said I didn't have to ask?"

"Of course," Mads cups his face, looking directly at him.

"...then get on your knees for me, " Hugh says softly, the easy give and take between them a constant surprise and thrill.

Mads instantly sinks to the floor and looks up. He knows what Hugh needs from him, and there's a little bit of showing off in the superficially submissive gesture. Hugh fumbles with his belt in his haste, fly unzipped in a second and pants pushed to his thighs. Mads leans in, almost nuzzling him through his underwear, and Hugh's legs weaken as his swollen, leaking cock rubs the curve of a high cheekbone.

Mads slides his hands up Hugh's thighs and mouths at his crotch, the heat and moisture of it an exquisite tease through the thin fabric. Warm thumbs slip under the waistband of his underwear. "Can I?" Mads asks.

When he receives a shaky nod of anticipation, he pulls the material down far enough for Hugh's erection to spring free. Hugh takes himself in hand, pulling back the foreskin and rubbing the head against wet, reddened lips. He uses his cock to push Mads's bottom lip down, other hand threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. Lust floods through Hugh at the sight and sensation of silky smooth skin grazing his sensitive flesh. 

"Shit, you want this so much," he murmurs, heart racing as he watches the tip of Mads's tongue come out to lick at the pre-cum smeared on his lip.

Mads doesn't answer, but the slight shift of his head might be a nod. 

"Open," Hugh says, reaching out to caress his cheek.

Mads obeys, gaze hungry and dark, and Hugh guides his cock inside. He lets his hands fall to his sides and greedy lips close around him with a hum of satisfaction, pulling him deeper into blissful heat. Hugh has time to stutter out an uneven _oh_ , and then Mads is expertly working him with a dexterous tongue and the perfect level of suction, right hand moving up to wrap around his shaft. Hugh pushes his hips forward just once; the shallow movement is careful and brief, but he moans at the sensation. Mads pulls back, swirling his tongue and lapping at the head of Hugh's cock as he tightens his grip, and it's so incredibly arousing that Hugh has to look away. He stares unseeing at a spot on the white wall behind them, minutes blurring together as he loses himself in blinding pleasure.

Mads lifts his mouth off suddenly, the moist sound of it loud in the quiet room. "Is it good?" he breathes against Hugh's thigh, tickling the skin. His hair is mussed, the outline of his own erection clearly visible as he kneels.

"Perfect," Hugh says shakily. "Please, I-"

"Use me as you like," Mads interrupts, lips beautifully swollen and shiny with spit. "I want you to."

He resumes his sucking and increases the pace, urging Hugh to respond. Hugh's hips buck and his hands shoot up to hold the back of Mads's head for balance, fingers moving spasmodically. He remembers dreaming of something like this years ago, fantasizing about fucking Hannibal's mouth when Will was in jail, and this moment is uncannily like that and yet almost entirely different.

One hand digging into the flesh of Hugh's ass and his lips gliding down to the base of Hugh’s cock, Mads starts to rub himself through his jeans, the rhythm uneven and desperate. The thought that Mads can't help himself is almost too much to contemplate and Hugh's breath catches at the sharp spike of desire he feels. He pictures Mads jerking off to the idea of this moment, imagines him lying on his back with three fingers in his mouth.

"Make yourself come for me," Hugh says, voice ragged. "I need to see you."

Mads responds immediately, hastily popping buttons and shoving at material, and then he's back to worshiping Hugh with his tongue while fisting his own cock at the same time. Hugh has the primitive urge to mark him, to come across his face and paint his lips as he holds him by the hair, and the allure of that lewd image wars with the instinct to finish deep in his throat. He thrusts into Mads's mouth properly then, hips undulating, enthralled by the color high on his cheeks and the way he breathes hard through his nose as he relaxes his throat and lets Hugh control the pace. The wet slurp of it is obscene, and Hugh is staggered by the knowledge Mads is turned on enough to get off on this.

"Do you want me to fill your mouth?" he pants, eager to see the power of his words again, and his eyes roll back at the vibration of Mads's moaned reply. 

Although Hugh is balanced right on the cusp of orgasm, chest heaving with frantic breaths as he slides across the velvet heat of Mads's tongue, it's Mads who gets there first. All it takes is a few more rough strokes and then his jaw slackens for a second as he groans, come spilling over his hand. When Hugh’s own orgasm hits, he is swallowed down without hesitation as he cries out and his body trembles. Mads works him through it, gradually slowing down and eventually stopping with a deep sigh.

Hugh drops to his knees and they kneel eye to eye, weak limbed. He wipes away the come at the corner of Mads's mouth and as Mads sucks it off his thumb he feels his exhausted cock twitch in half-hearted response. Hugh laughs involuntarily, giddy as the mad panic of lust gives way to a flood of contented tenderness that’s so much gentler but none the less powerful for it.

"We still have a few hours," he says, catching his breath. "Will you lie down with me?"

They collapse on their backs when Mads re-emerges from the bathroom, his hands clean and his shirt stripped off. Hugh rolls onto his side and tentatively reaches out to put an arm across Mads's bare chest, the touch of warm skin and soft chest hair offering a new kind of intimacy. Mads smiles faintly, lips still red, his breathing slowing as he falls asleep.


End file.
